one and the same, and yet, different
by Ice of the Kitsune's Fire
Summary: She has come into her own, and it lights a fascination in him that he hasn't felt in years. Movie-verse, Shinkane.


A/N: HERE THERE BE MOVIE SPOILERS. You have been warned.

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Inspector Tsunemori has changed. He's not particularly surprised.

"I didn't think you were going to chase me all the way here," he says, crouching on the floor.

Her gun points directly at his forehead. He's impressed. To see that former slip of a girl threaten death upon him without hesitation…

He tastes nostalgia in the back of his throat as she speaks. She rapid fires questions at him, every inch the inspector she has become. His pulse quickens, and he's not sure if it is from the leftover adrenaline or something else entirely. He knows that both of them see each other exactly as they truly are, and intrigue creeps up his limbs.

Her eyes are hard and scrutinizing, and her entire body speaks of the strength he first glimpsed in her years ago. Back then it was only a driving spark in her eyes, the tilt of her head, determination pressing into the firm line of her mouth. Now it has manifested itself in her entire physical being. He has no doubt that there will be bruises left where she has hit him.

She has come into her own, and it lights a fascination in him that he hasn't felt in years. But it is not the fanatic, all-consuming obsession that controlled him when he was still an Enforcer. It is something infinitely subtler. He is still trying to define it when a movement in the background catches his eye.

When he sees the drone, his body falls into the instinctive patterns from years ago, pulling her down and shielding her form from the explosion that bursts a second later. And when he runs, she follows. She chases him through the water and out of the building, her steps synchronizing with his in a way that feels oddly familiar and strange all at once. The breaths he takes smell of sulfur and dust, and they push on.

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She has grown teeth while he was gone; her words are now as sharp as the bite she puts behind them. He feels an itch of dark humor crawling up in his chest at her accusations. She sees right through him. She is possibly the only person in the world who sees the specter of Makishima as clearly as he does.

But she is as truthful as she is kind. _You are like Makishima_ , she says, _but you are not the same. You have no desire to control the hearts of others, and that is the biggest difference._

And when she speaks, he knows instinctively that her words are true. He takes in her small, competent body, her ever-practical haircut, and is hit with a faint nostalgia that dissipates as he watches her brown locks shift in the evening breeze. She has changed, and yet she is still the same as she was before. In his mind's eye, her person brings forth a vision of himself from long ago, and also of something completely incomparable.

They are on opposite sides of a conflict larger than either of them, but there is an understanding that keeps both of them standing on this balcony, next to each other.

He can't stop the small smile that sneaks into his mouth, and he knows she notices it, too.

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During the ambush, he feels the ambiguity of fate press upon him as lives are lost within the fluctuating face of life and death. Flames and gunfire erupt and dance through the air, and then he is running, Tsunemori covering his back as he leads them to the place he knows they must go.

He stops the first car that he sees and tells Tsunemori to escape. She refuses, loudly and adamantly, and frustration and admiration swells within him. His instincts are at war with each other; he wants to protect, and yet, she does not need it. She is of the Sibyl System, but she is not an enemy (will never be an enemy to him). He focuses on the rational and grips her shoulders, energy coiling underneath his skin.

He has his role to play in this conflict, and so does she. He reminds her of her task as an Inspector, of the corruption they must stop from opposite ends– and her face falls. For the first time since their unlikely reunion, her emotions are clearly written across her face.

In this moment, she is just Akane. A shadow of the girl he knew peers up at him through the eyes of the woman in front of him. They are one and the same, and the past echoes in his ears.

Kougami doesn't know if he believes in destiny. But he believes in her, and for a moment he feels something akin to faith. He opens his mouth:

" _If we both survive this, come try to catch me again."_

It is an invitation and reassurance and acceptance all at once. Her eyes are wide and swirling with indefinable things. He senses both hope and resignation within the turmoil.

" _Sure,"_ she whispers.

This is how she leaves: in a car with a person he will never see again, following a trail of light to the unknown future. He watches her go, and, against his will, hopes for another reunion.

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A/N: Critique & feedback greatly appreciated.


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